Fall on a winter night

golden light
streaming through blue cloudless skies
through arches
dodging leaves
golden-yellow
light on the straightened spine
of the girl at a bench
reading
in the shadow of Goethe
and some other greats
whose names are obscured by clinging ivy on stone buildings
and by weak memory.
you turn
to the sound of your name
quietly
composedly
and i hear the sound of laughter on a football field.